


The Soulmate Situation

by clotpolesonly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aromantic Jackson Whittemore, Aromantic Laura Hale, Background Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Christmas Party, Everybody has a soulmate, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Jackson Whittemore is a Hale, background Cora Hale/Scott McCall - Freeform, background Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura - Freeform, references to amatonormativity and light aro-phobia, the local aros go "ew" (lovingly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: “If one more person asks me about my soulmate situation, there’s gonna be bloodshed.”Laura let out a loud, startled laugh. “Oh my god, that’s such a mood.”Some kernel of nervousness in Jackson’s stomach dissolved. People were weird about soulmates, just as a general rule, and he never knew how a person would react. It definitely wasn’t often that someone agreed with him. Even the ones who did—well, usually it was just because they didn’t like being reminded of their woefully un-mated status, not because they actually didn’twantone either.Laura, though, was grinning like Jackson had just made her entire night.
Relationships: Laura Hale & Jackson Whittemore
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85
Collections: Laura Hale Appreciation Week 2020





	The Soulmate Situation

**Author's Note:**

> i played myself picking Soulmates as a theme for LHAW when i headcanon Laura as aro so strongly, hahaha. luckily someone requested more Laura & Jackson bonding, and i happen to also strongly headcanon Jackson as aro, so here we are! two aros bonding over the woes of amatonormativity! this gdoc was lovingly entitled "fuck soulmates lmao".

Jackson was not used to this many people in one room. He had been raised as an only child by parents with no siblings of their own and no extended family to speak of. Their holidays had always just been the three of them, occasional visits from the grandparents when he was really young, maybe a few family friends if they were feeling particularly jolly. Simple and quiet.

But there was _nothing_ quiet about the Hale house at Christmastime.

By Jackson’s count, the Hales were comprised of: Talia, the matriarch, and her husband Robert; Talia’s parents, Frederick and Portia; Robert’s mother, Denise; Talia’s siblings, Peter and Naomi; Naomi’s wife, Saanvi, and their daughter, Prisha; Peter’s daughter, Malia; Talia and Robert’s children, Sam, Laura, Derek, Cora, Evan, and Maya; and Sam’s wife, Christa, and their sons, Robbie and Ben. Nineteen people, and that wasn’t even counting Prisha’s, Derek’s, Malia’s, Cora’s, and Evan’s significant others, who were all also in attendance.

It was a good thing their house was fucking enormous because Jackson’s house couldn’t have fit _half_ these people.

He was sort of regretting not bringing his parents with him. They’d offered to come, and the Hales had extended an enthusiastic invitation to them, but, honestly, Jackson was an adult and he didn’t need his mom and dad holding his hand through this. This was something that he wanted to do on his own.

It was weird, though. Everyone knew who he was by now—Peter’s secret bastard child coming to light and being brought into the fold was big news—and every curious pair of eyes on him felt like a spotlight. Not that any of them were anything but polite. The Hales were good people and they’d been going out of their way all night to make sure that Jackson was included and knew that they wanted him there.

The sentiment was nice and Jackson appreciated it, he really did, it was just... 

He wasn’t used to this. He was used to three people and one tastefully decorated Christmas tree, not _twenty-six_ people crowded around three nine-foot-tall trees covered in garishly colorful hand-made ornaments while _Jingle Bell Rock_ blared over fifteen overlapping conversations.

Portia kept swooping in to pat his cheek and tell him how nice it was to have another grandson (because she really _needed_ another one of those). Malia punched him in the shoulder every time she was within range, because apparently that was her way of showing affection for her new half-brother. Maya had attached herself to Jackson’s arm for a solid ten minutes, babbling about some diorama she was making for a school project, before her aunt had pried her off and carried her away. Evan’s two datemates had spouted basketball statistics at him until Talia had come to rescue him.

And the soulmate talk.

Jackson was _so fucking tired_ of soulmate talk. It was “my soulmate this” and “so-and-so’s soulmate that” and “have you found your soulmate yet?” and “maybe I could introduce you to my coworker’s second niece twice removed, I hear she’s still looking too”.

By the time he staggered out onto the back porch, he was exhausted and ready to scream for a wide variety of reasons. Unfortunately, he found it already occupied.

Laura was leaning against the back railing, a beer bottle dangling haphazardly from her fingertips. Her hair was done up in a messy bun that had reindeer antlers stuck into it—undoubtedly Maya’s doing—and her sweater was more garish than any of the tree decorations. She glanced up at the burst of noise from the open door.

“Escaping?” she asked.

“Taking a break,” was Jackson’s attempt at diplomacy

She nodded toward a nearby cooler. “Alcohol’s in there.”

Jackson snatched a bottle up and popped off the cap. Laura wordlessly slid over to give him space at the railing, taking a swig of her own drink.

“What did you in?”

Jackson raised an eyebrow in question.

“You’d been holding up so well all night,” Laura said. “Made it through dinner and everything. What finally sent you running?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Laura snorted. “I already live with them. You think I need a reason?”

“Fair point.”

The night was cold, though not as cold as it could’ve been. Jackson’s breath puffed out in a cloud and he was glad he’d grabbed his jacket on his way out, but it was more bracing than it was unpleasant. The Christmas music from inside was finally at a low enough level to actually be enjoyed. The beer was decent.

Laura nudged his shoulder. “So?”

With a sigh, Jackson chugged his drink and tossed the bottle back into the cooler with a clink. “If one more person asks me about my soulmate situation, there’s gonna be bloodshed.”

Laura let out a loud, startled laugh. “Oh my god, that’s such a mood.”

Some kernel of nervousness in Jackson’s stomach dissolved. People were weird about soulmates, just as a general rule, and he never knew how a person would react. It definitely wasn’t often that someone agreed with him. Even the ones who did—well, usually it was just because they didn’t like being reminded of their woefully un-mated status, not because they actually didn’t _want_ one either.

Laura, though, was grinning like Jackson had just made her entire night.

“Did Aunt Naomi try to introduce you to her coworker’s whoever?” she demanded. “She’s tried to hook me up with, like, seventeen different people. The offer changes every time I see her. I swear, she’s like a pop-up ad. I don’t know where she keeps finding all these available singles in our area.”

The image of Naomi on some ‘00s-style pop-up banner proclaiming that local hot blondes were looking for _him_ flashed up in Jackson’s mind. It was a good thing he had already finished his beer because he absolutely would’ve snorted it out of his nose.

“Sounds like my mom,” he chuckled. “Don’t ever let them meet each other; we’ll never escape with our singlehood intact.”

Laura gave a theatrical shudder. It made her bun-antlers wobble precariously. She polished off her drink and fished a water bottle out of the cooler instead, offering a second one to Jackson.

“Thanks,” he said.

The ridges on the cap bit into his cold fingers as he unscrewed and re-screwed it a few times, trying to think of how to word his next question tactfully. Laura was, he remembered, the only other person here without a soulmate—besides Peter, whose soulmate had died years ago—but that didn’t necessarily mean that she was like him.

“So, uh… Why do _you_ …?”

Laura sent him a wry look. She leaned back against the railing, arms crossed over that ridiculous sweater, and said, “Are you fishing to find out if I’m aromantic or just single and jaded?”

Jackson’s eyebrows shot up, taking his hopes with them. “Well, most alloromantic people don’t even know the _term_ ‘aromantic’, so I feel like that might answer my question.”

In answer, Laura reached under the neck of her sweater and dragged out a necklace. The pendant was in the shape of a standard Christmas ornament, but the colors were the unmistakable green-white-grey-black of the aromantic pride flag.

She said, “You too?”

Jackson pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. The keychain was a spade in the same colors.

Laura’s grin widened. “You’re officially my new favorite cousin. Welcome to the family.”

Before Jackson could figure out what to do with the unusual upwelling of warmth in his chest, Cora’s mate Scott stuck his head out the door to grin at them both. “Eggnog’s ready! You better get back in here if you want any. Sam’s gonna chug it all himself if you take too long.”

“Is it spiked yet?” Laura asked.

“Isn’t it always?”

“Touché.” She winked at him. “We’ll be in soon, promise.”

Scott let his mate drag him back inside and left the door open in his wake. Through it, Jackson could see Derek and Stiles canoodling on the love seat, all soft smiles and loud laughs. Naomi and Saanvi were making good use of the mistletoe taped up in the doorway to the foyer. Malia was plastered up against Kira’s back, contentedly nuzzling into her neck while Kira chatted unconcernedly with Portia.

A picture-perfect spread, happily mated pairs as far as the eye could see.

“How do you stand it?” Jackson had to ask. “They’re cute and all, I guess, but _jeez._ ”

“Tell me about it.” She was smiling, though, a little wry but obviously genuine. “It’s not like I’m not happy for them. I want my family to be happy, obviously, and I’m tremendously grateful that all of them have found what they’re looking for. I just…”

“Don’t want what they want?”

Laura lifted her water bottle in a toast.

Jackson bumped his against it, thinking of his mother and her well-meaning matchmaking attempts. Of how she didn’t want him to be _lonely_ forever, as if Jackson had ever made any claim to loneliness. He thought of his father’s quiet concern that maybe this was just a commitment issue, that he might change his mind later and regret wasting so much time he could’ve spent looking for or being with his true love.

No matter how many times Jackson explained, it never seemed to get through to them. Not really. It was just utterly inconceivable to them, and to Naomi, and to everyone else whose first choice for small talk was “so, where’s your soulmate?”, that anyone could actually not have one. Even more so that someone could not _want_ one.

“Most of them learn to stop asking eventually,” Laura said. “Aunt Naomi’s dense about it, but the rest are usually pretty good. Even the ones who are disgustingly, obnoxiously happy with their own soulmates.”

“You mean, they _don’t_ try to insist that you have to have a soulmate out there somewhere?” Jackson asked, only a little bit bitter. “And that, if you don’t look for them, you’re depriving them of _their_ chance at happiness and fulfillment? ‘Cause I get that one a lot.”

Laura’s groan of utter disdain was weirdly gratifying. “God, I _hate_ those people! They’re the literal worst. Thank god my family doesn’t have anyone that bad. Naomi’s pretty much the worst of them.”

“Still pretty annoying,” Jackson muttered. “What do you say to get _her_ to shut up about it?”

“Oh, I just tell her that I couldn’t possibly have a soulmate,” Laura said breezily. “Clearly, Evan stole mine. Threw off the whole system.”

In a show of convenient timing, Evan stumbled past the open door with Lacey on his back, her legs around his waist and her chin on the top of his head, and Ashton following along fretfully, their hands raised, obviously waiting for their datemates to topple over and hurt themselves.

Jackson threw his head back and laughed. “So which of those was supposed to be yours, do you think?”

“Don’t know and don’t care,” Laura sniggered. “I’m just glad I dodged the bullet.”

“Now, _that’s_ a mood.”

Laura beamed at him, and that alone was more fulfilling than any forced attempt at a romantic relationship that Jackson had ever made. Why would he need a soulmate if he could have people like this in his life? Friends and family, people who understood who he was and what he wanted out of life. That was more than enough for him.

A gleeful shout from inside—Stiles, maybe, Jackson thought—announced another batch of eggnog. This time, Laura tossed her water bottle and threw her arm around Jackson’s shoulder.

“Once more unto the breach,” she said. “I’ll distract Naomi if you grab me some ‘nog. Then we can sneak upstairs to the roof where it’s quiet. How’s that sound?”

It sounded like Jackson’s perfect Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable on tumblr with moodboard!](https://clotpolesonly.tumblr.com/post/630082194575081472/for-laurahale-appreciation-week-day-four)


End file.
